


Welcome to Winterfell

by avocadoatlaww



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Welcome to Night Vale Setting, Crossover, Don't Ask, I Don't Even Know, I have no excuses, M/M, So yeah, What the Hell, i might have had an existential crisis, kinda OOC, this is weird af, why the fuck did i even write this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-13
Updated: 2015-11-13
Packaged: 2018-05-01 11:37:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5204411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avocadoatlaww/pseuds/avocadoatlaww
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The <i>A Song of Ice and Fire</i> and <i>Welcome to Night Vale</i> crossover you didn't know you needed, and I didn't know I was going to write.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome to Winterfell

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, I wrote a crossover between _A Song of Ice and Fire_ and the podcast _Welcome to Night Vale_. The idea came to me this morning when I realized most of my life centre around _Welcome to Night Vale_ and Theon/Robb at the moment. So I though why not write a crossover with Robb as "the voice of Winterfell" and Theon as his scientist boyfriend. They might be a bit out of character, but that's because they basically are Cecil and Carlos. The setting is around the time Carlos is trapped in the strange desert world because that's how far I am on the podcast. I'm so far behind... This might be a series sometime, but at the moment I don't know if I'll do it or not. 
> 
> I know not all of these characters are in Winterfell. Some of them have never been there, but please bear with me. 
> 
> Oh, and by the way, thank you all so much for the kudos and lovely comments on my last two fics. It really means a lot to me. You guys are the best. 
> 
> Please excuse my English. I'm Norwegian, so English is not my mother tongue.
> 
> PS! I don't own anything. The characters are George R. R. Martin's and the setting is Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor's.

What are words? Just weird sounds put together in ways we have convinced ourselves have meaning. What does that say about us? Do we need meaning? Is meaning even real? 

Welcome, to Winterfell.

Dear listeners, this is Robb speaking. I like to think we know each other by now, or at least you know me. I have been speaking to you through the radio for years now. How many I can't remember. I can't remember the day I started. Huh. Funny. Well, but then, who among us does? We're not supposed to remember. If you do remember the day you started your current job, go out in the forest and shout out loud. The Sheriff's Secret City Watch will hear, and it will be written down. Then they will come for you and help you forget. 

What are the news? I can hear you asking yourself. Well, I can't hear it myself, but the member of the Faceless Men who secretly lives in your home can, and they just told me. "What?" they are saying. "You can't feel my breath on your neck?" 

But, well, the news. Old Nan and her not in any way angelic companions, because angels do not exist, are doing something with Bolton Corp., which the angels bought some time ago. We don't really know what they are doing, but the angels, all named Osha, are walking around in circles in the abandoned car lot where Old Nan lives. I don't know what that means, but since angels aren't real, it's probably something we shouldn't worry about. More on this as the not-angels does something else.

Theon called last night. You know my boyfriend. The scientist. The hero. He's still trapped in that strange desert other world, where he's exploring the strange rumbling noises. I just wish he could come home. I miss him so much, and hope he's fine. But then, he's a scientist, and scientist are always fine.

And now, traffic. Imagine a highway. No. Not that one. That's not the right highway. How could you imagine that highway? Oh, my God, what is wrong with you? Let's try again. The highway is straight and going through a desert. It's abandoned. Wait, no, it's not. There's a man walking along the highway. He's an ordinary looking man. Much like yourself. Not tall, but not short either. Dark haired. He's just walking. You feel some kind of connection with him. You want to go for a walk. Find an abandoned highway and just walk. You are walking. You are the man. And this has been traffic.

So I was talking to Davos Seaworth, you know, the smuggler. He was telling me about how the seas are rising, and I just couldn't believe it. The seas rising. Sounds ridiculous. But then he took me down to the docks, and, listeners, you won't believe what I saw. Davos Seaworth, you know, the smuggler, was completely right! The docks were under water, and all sorts of creatures were emerging from it. So if I were you, listeners, I would watch out for werecod and other dangerous creatures, but you know what to do if you ever meet one. We all do. We all learned that in primary school. You just turn your back to the werecod and chant: "Winter is coming, winter is coming, winter is coming". Then they will probably go away.

Intern Margaery is waving at me. She's mouthing something, quite frantically actually. I'll have to check this out, listeners. I'll be right back.

Ok, I'm back now, listeners. Intern Margaery just had a phone from Jaime Lannister, the spokesperson for the Sheriff's Secret City Watch. He told her the not-angels, all named Osha, are walking away from the abandoned car lot where Old Nan lives. What this means he didn't explain. When intern Margaery asked, he just made some guttural sounds and then shrieked: "Don't call me Kingslayer!" before he hung up. So if you know what this means, listeners, we will be very happy if you shout it at the stars, so they can tell us. It's fifty cents per shout.

And now a word from our sponsors. Today's sponsor is the feeling loneliness. Are you feeling lonely? No? Well, you are lonely. We know. We see. We see all of you. Lonely. That's what you all are. We see how you sit alone in your kitchen in the mornings. Sighing. Over a cold cup of coffee. Lonely. We all are lonely. In the end that's what we are. We see you in the evenings. You sit there alone in your exhausted old sofa. Alone. With a cold cup of tea. Lonely. And when you go to bed at night. We see you then as well. We see how you creep into your cold bed. Alone. How you fall asleep. Alone. We see that as well. We know how you feel. Lonely. This was a word from our sponsors.

We just got a word from Oberyn Martell, the owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex. He told us he saw the Oshas walk down towards the docks. He followed them, and when they where by the water's edge, he said they made a perfect line while holding hands and chanting: "Fear cuts deeper than swords." Or at least that's what Oberyn Martell, the owner of the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, told us. And apparently all the creatures went back to the sea, and the sea levels sank to it's normal height. If there were beings called angels, we would definitely thank them for saving Winterfell once again, but since there are no such beings, and even contemplating their existence is forbidden, we will not. 

And now, I take you to the weather. 

_"Robb, hi, it's Theon. I hope you get this voicemail. I just wanted to tell you that I've talked more to the strange, robed warriors that live here, and they have been talking more and more lately about a great evil threatening all the worlds. They call it R'hollor, or the Burning God of Asshai, and I have to tell you Robb, I'm scared. What they have been saying sounds pretty terrifying. Have you over in Winterfell heard anything about it? I'll ask Asha, the robed warrior, more about it later, but I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it was just your voicemail. I'll talk to you later, ok? I love you, and I'm fine. A scientist is always fine. So don't you worry."_

Listeners, while you were listening to the weather I got a voicemail from Theon. You know, my boyfriend. He told me about this great evil the robed warriors in the strange desert world he's trapped in talk about. It sounded pretty scary, and I really hope he's fine. I hate that he's such a long way away from me, and at the moment I wish I could just hold him close. He shouldn't be there, in that strange desert world. If he just could go looking for those old oak doors, so he could come back to me. I... I miss him. A lot. And I worry about him. Come home, Theon, please. 

The night is coming, listeners. Once again we have to crawl into our cold beds and pretend to sleep, while strange lights hover in the night sky. Stay tuned next for sounds of cicadas singing while we all contemplate our irrelevance. 

And as always, good night, Winterfell. Good night.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who don't know, on the podcast, the weather is always a song. That's why it's going straight to Theon's voicemail. Sorry if you got confused.


End file.
